


The Illogical Heart

by kronette



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e12 The Queen Must Die, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8026729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: In the face of possibilities, he had abandoned logic to follow his heart. How can Pythagoras reconcile what's in his heart against what Icarus has done?





	The Illogical Heart

Logic had ruled over his heart for so long. Logic had kept him safe. Logic had…

Logic had failed him. 

In the face of possibilities, he had abandoned logic to follow his heart.

Allowed the warmth of friendship to deepen to something more. Allowed the friendly hugs of greeting to become something more intimate. Allowed himself to feel, to be comforted, to be teased without rancor, to be admired without scorn.

Allowed himself the possibility of love.

He was not the romantic fool. He was not the heroic fool. He was the logical fool who had tossed aside the one thing that had never betrayed him. 

Even though he had abandoned logic, logic was always there, waiting for him to notice. Waiting for him to _see_. It had almost taken him too long. Love was indeed blind. 

Betrayal left no visible scars, yet it seared him as if burned by fire. It bled worse than the deepest cut of a sword. It weakened him more than a draught of poison. 

It gave him the strength to walk away, when all Pythagoras wanted to do was let loose the feelings he had nurtured for Icarus. 

Holding Icarus back from completing the act he had so quietly, quietly wished for; the leather beneath his palm a cold contrast to the anguish ravishing his soul, Pythagoras knew only one thing for certain: 

He would never betray logic again. 

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He had thought that hearing an explanation, a reason, would make him feel something other than…raw. It did nothing to alleviate his pain; only enhanced it tenfold. 

What Icarus had been faced with; he did not know if he would have chosen differently. Could he have chosen between saving Hercules or Medusa? Ariadne or Jason? Could he have made _any_ choice if it meant the fall of Atlantis? Was a city worth more than one life? Could an ideal mean more than any mortal man, or even one touched by the gods? 

His footsteps had taken him to his old apartment and he shuffled like an old man up the stairs. The disarray was more than he remembered of his last time there; the fear of losing his best friends unjustly. A terrible, long night where he’d had no reprieve from his consuming grief. 

He uprighted the bench and collapsed onto it, letting his forehead drop to his folded arms upon the table. Exhaustion filled every bone, every muscle, every emotion in his body, yet his mind would not rest.

Always allow logic to dictate your actions. It objectified facts and presented them without emotion; without preconceived notions. Logic simply _was_. 

Yet he remembered a young soldier in the woods, unarmed, who logically they should have killed. Pythagoras had presented the facts: leaving the soldier alive gave the opportunity for betrayal. Jason, then Hercules, had tried and refused. Pythagoras had tried, _knowing_ he was doing the right thing, _knowing_ it had to be done…

He could not take an unarmed man’s life, even with logic demanding all threats be eliminated. He had let emotion overrule his head, and they had been betrayed. 

He had let emotion overtake his heart, and he had been betrayed. 

Tears soaked his sleeves and his chest ached with gasped breaths as he finally allowed the truth to surface. 

He would do everything the same, even knowing he would be betrayed, if it meant he could experience the blossoming love between he and Icarus all over again. 

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The sounds of the city awakening drew him from his uneasy slumber. His back ached from his sprawl over the table and the skin of his cheeks felt tight. He wiped at his face and felt the remnants of tears. Limbs still heavy with sleep, he pushed himself to his feet and searched until he found a jug half full of water. He washed his face gently, trying not to remember the touch of rough fingertips against his cheek. The huff of nervous breath against his lips. The anticipation…a ragged sound of denial choked him and he threw the jug into the far corner of the room. 

He splayed his hands on the table and hung his head, drawing in deep breaths to calm himself. Reason and logic had failed him. Emotion had failed him. How was he to reconcile the two halves of himself if he could not understand which path he must take? 

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In the midst of knowing he was about to die a horrible death, it was an instrument of death that gave him hope. Fire powder falling from the sky, dispatching the soldiers surrounding them. 

It wasn’t until he looked up that he realized his hypothesis was wrong; it wasn’t Daedalus come to rescue them, it was Icarus. Icarus had come to their rescue. Icarus had not abandoned him, even after his declaration of never being able to forgive the betrayal. 

In the instant that Icarus was hit with the arrow, he knew forgiveness could be given, if only Icarus lived. 

If only Icarus lived… 

Laid out among the drifting feathers, Icarus looked dead. 

His heart stopped between one word and the next. “No. Icarus.” 

Eyes fluttered open, filled with pain, regret, sorrow and love. 

Relief, forgiveness and then love filled his heart and he swore he felt it flowing out through his fingertips into Icarus’ chest. 

His heart stopped between one word and the next. “I’m sorry.” 

Words were not needed. Icarus’ actions spoke well enough for him. 

With a heart that was lighter but still pounding from fear, he cupped Icarus’ cheek gently and gave in to the desire that pushed out all other thought. 

Sunlight filled him as he kissed Icarus. The fulfillment of a dream long held did not diminish in the sweet reality. It was forgiveness. It was love. It was regret. It was understanding. It was a vow. It was cherished and desired and filled with a promise of more. 

It was not enough time.

Hercules helped him remove Icarus from his winged contraption and together they escaped the city. 

When Icarus could walk on his own again, Pythagoras remained at his side, yet his gaze was on his friends ahead of him. 

Jason and Ariadne also walked side by side, but he could sense distance between them where there had been none before. Hercules walked alone, though the space beside him was filled with Medusa’s sacrifice. 

Jason, lost to the darkness. Hercules, lost to his grief. Icarus, lost in his remorse. Ariadne, lost without her people. Emotions were senseless and illogical. They led to hearts being broken and lives being shattered. 

Pythagoras looked over to Icarus, his steps faltering at seeing the beloved features twisted in pain. He’d had only a moment to check for broken bones before they had to flee the city. Had he missed something or…

A trail of moonlight trickled down Icarus’ cheek and he knew the pain was not from a physical wound. He reached out and curled his fingers around Icarus’ hand. 

He breathed easier when Icarus squeezed back and his features smoothed into contentment. Pythagoras could feel his own expression soften and his lips curl upward in a shy smile. 

Emotions were senseless and illogical. They made life worth living. 

“As many stars as there are in the sky,” Icarus murmured. 

“What was that?” he asked, distracted by the warmth of the hand in his. 

Icarus’ smile flashed bright for an instant, then faded. “I know that I have destroyed your trust in me. I know that this,” a squeeze to his hand, “while wondrous, is only the first step. Even if it takes as many days as there are stars in the sky, I will earn back your trust.” A hesitant pause, and then on a coarse whisper, “If you still want me.” 

Pythagoras stopped and turned toward Icarus, holding his gaze. He did not know what the other man saw in his expression, but the worry eased and the shoulders relaxed minutely. “We will count the stars together,” he promised, moving a step closer and ghosting his fingers along the back of Icarus’ neck. “Every night, we will map them and give each a name, and with each name, I will love you a little bit more.” Icarus’ face wavered as his vision blurred with tears. “You hurt me greatly, Icarus, more deeply than I knew I could be hurt.” 

More tears reflected the moonlight as Icarus whispered, “And I will carry that burden all the rest of my days.” Pythagoras leaned into the trembling hand that came to rest against his tear-stained cheek. “My only desire is that I am worthy of the love you have for me.” A ragged breath. “My love for you knows no limits. I love you with all my heart, Pythagoras, and I pray to the gods that you are never touched by the hatred I bear for what I have done to you.”

He moved without thought, clasping both of Icarus’ hands between his, forcing the other man to look directly at him. “Do not hate yourself, for I cannot hate you. I _cannot_ ,” he emphasized with a shake to their combined hands. “You are too young and beautiful to let your heart be blackened by hate. I have seen enough hatred; I will see no more.” He released Icarus’ hands, cupped his face and pulled him close for a rough, desperate kiss. 

After a fleeting beat of his heart, Icarus returned the kiss, his matching desperation tinged with relief and thankfulness. Murmured _sorrys_ and _loves_ whispered between their kisses, lost to each other until a loud throat-clearing drew their attention. 

Pythagoras presumed he looked as sheepish as Icarus, with Hercules glaring at the both of them with impatience. “I know young love is blind and stupid, but do you mind keeping up with the rest of us? I don’t want to have to save your sorry hides from a boar or whatever lurks in these woods.” The gruff tone was tempered by sadness in Hercules’ eyes, no doubt thinking of his first kisses with Medusa.

Pythagoras went immediately to his friend and hugged him. He felt the tightening of arms around him in gratitude before he was playfully shoved away, stumbling back into Icarus’ arms…whether by accident or design, he could not say. Strong hands held him by the hips, steadying him and keeping him pressed back against Icarus’ chest. All the breath left him at once and he grew dizzy trying to remember how to inhale. 

“Come on then, you two,” Hercules called back to them from halfway up the hill. “We’ve made camp a few hills over.” 

Pythagoras took a deep breath; he had not even noticed Hercules walk away. The steadying hands at his hips left him, yet he still startled as Icarus’ hand slid back into his. 

“We didn’t anger him, did we?” Icarus asked as they started walking in Hercules’ wake. 

He smiled and squeezed Icarus’ hand. “No. He’s usually much grumpier and much more forthright with his anger.” His lighthearted mood turned sorrowful as he confided, “We remind him of a woman he lost not long ago. Good memories of better times.” 

“I want to make good memories with you, Pythagoras,” Icarus declared softly, setting Pythagoras’ heart pounding in anticipation. “Let us not wait until better times, for these may be those times and only darkness may lie ahead.” 

He did not want to believe there could be days darker than the ones they had just experienced. His heart had been lightened with renewed hope; he would not give in so easily to the dark. “Darkness may be behind us,” he countered, though logically, with Pasiphae sitting on the throne of Atlantis, it was a slim hope. 

He shifted his hand until their fingers threaded together, forming a stronger bond. With his throat thick with emotion, Pythagoras replied, “In time, we shall make good memories to remember in the dark times. For now, let us join the others and begin counting the stars.”


End file.
